


Know Your Place

by Unforth



Series: Prompt Fics: Supernatural [44]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Beta Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Corporal Punishment, Dean Winchester Whump, Discipline, Established Relationship, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Omega Dean, POV Castiel (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, Praise Kink, Punishment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 10:36:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18497206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: After a public outburst, Dean is sent to an omega discipline center for the day.





	Know Your Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alessariel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alessariel/gifts).



> Alessariel was looking for some hurt comfort where Dean gets punished as a result of Cas unknowingly making a mistake. Her wish is my command...
> 
> As I've mentioned in other notes I'm not having an easy time - and no sooner did I start this than one of my sons got a stomach bug and I'm running on fumes - but I'm gonna do my best to get this done quickly. I'm guessing 3 or 4 chapters and somewhere between 7500 and 10k words for the finished story.

Grimacing, Dean watched the receptionist do a perfunctory job of checking his files, though his eyes were so often on Dean and so little on his computer screen that Dean couldn't believe the asshole  _ actually _ checked anything. His condescending smile and the disgruntled impatience of the people waiting behind Dean in line made him feel small. He was out of place, infinitely aware that when all these asshole alphas and betas looked at him, they didn't see Dean Winchester, or even Dean Novak; they saw an upstart omega daring to take one damn step outside the sphere that society dictated was to be his entire, all-encompassing lot in life.

_...just like dad always saw me - learn to cook, boy, learn to clean, learn to spread those legs and take a knot. Being a sweet little bitch in heat is all you're good for now. You get your hands out from under that car hood, that's alpha work, not for the likes of you. _

Dean forced a smile, clenched his hands till his knuckles turned white to keep his hands from shaking. “Look  _ again _ ,” he insisted.

_ …just like Cas sees me? What if he secretly didn't want me to take the class? What if he denied his permission? What if he set me up?  _

The receptionist stared him down. “Please,” he added with a show of submissive entreaty.

_ Cas isn't dad. Cas doesn't lie to me. Cas doesn't trick me. Cas doesn't treat me like the sum total of my value is as a slicked up hole to bury his cock in. Cas is different. He…he loves me. I know he loves me. And I...I...  _

_ Cas would never-- _

“Sorry,” said the receptionist with an unctuous smile and not the least hint of contrition. “We don't have your permission slip.”

“Check again, hot stuff,” Dean said, managing a show of flippancy despite the tension tightening his chest. “N-O-V-A-K. I'm in there.”

“If an omega wants to attend a class at the Institute, their alpha must subm--”

“I know I need the damn slip! Cas--”

“All omegas are required to submit a permission form signed by their guardian.” The receptionist - Zachariah, his name tag said - alpha, his scent said - a name and lysol scent both in perfect harmony with his obsequious, bullshit attitude - turned from his computer, and showed predatory teeth as he offered Dean an incredibly fake sympathetic smile.

“That's what I'm trying to tell you, dipshit!” 

_ No! Don't curse! Behave! If I lose my temper…  _

Dean's heart raced, his hands tingling with fear and anger. 

“Cas - sorry, my  _ guardian _ , my  _ husband _ \- sent in the damn form! I watched him do it!”

_...except Zachy here said my guardian  _ alpha _... _

“No form, no class,” Zachariah said, saccharine sweet. 

_...which is still technically dad... _

“Next, please.”

“Fuck that!” Dean slammed a fist down on the table.  _ Stay calm, damn it. Literally  _ nothing  _ good has  _ ever  _ come of blowing my lid!  _ “I'm taking this fu…this...I'm taking the class!”

_...that's not true, if I'd kept my temper I'd never have met Cas... _

“Next,” Zachariah repeated, looking past Dean, looking through him like he was invisible.

_ Just like dad, the day I presented as omega, and every single goddamn day since. _

The tension in Dean's chest snapped. Emotional whiplash made him dizzy, colors streaking as he rounded on the people behind him in line, searching for support. 

_...this was how I met Cas...surely someone will see this insanity for the injustice it is... _

“Why do I even need a  _ fucking _ permission slip?” he stormed. “It’s a class about building a  _ transmission _ !”

“Sir--”

“No one is handing over the fricken nuclear codes!” No one spoke in his support. No one offered to help. The onlookers looked angry, bored, curious, one even appeared sympathetic, but none would meet his angry gaze. Most appeared impatient or oblivious. “I just wanna be a fucking  _ mechanic _ !” Dean wasn't a person; he was merely an omega, and an inconvenience.

“-- _ Novak _ \--”

“I’m not a  _ child _ !”

“Then stop acting like one,” said Zachariah crisply, rising, reaching out to tap a key on his keyboard. “You will leave the premises.”

“Fuck that! We sent the slip! The payment came out of Cas’ account! I--”

“Save your histrionics for your alpha,” the man behind Dean in line - big, burly, reeking of musk and alpha - gave Dean a withering look. 

“Die in a fire,” Dean snapped, flipping him the bird. Beyond the reception desk, gleaming, stainless steel-doored elevators shone like distant stars…

_ This is never going to work. _

...so close he could reach them in moments...

_ Why can’t I just suck it up, tamp it down, and leave? _

...so far away, he’d never reach them...

“Fine,” said Zachariah with a long-suffering sigh. He was so like dad that Dean wanted to deck him - the same father-knows-best alpha bullshit, the same condescension, the same fucking  _ infuriating  _ show of calm reasonableness that fooled everyone, made every onlooker oblivious to how completely  _ unreasonable _ they were actually being. Dean knew this trap, knew that the second he took the bait and got mad, he looked like a fool, looked like…

...like a  _ child _ …

...like an  _ omega… _

...and fucking  _ damn it _ , he fell for it every fucking time.

It wasn’t  _ fair _ !

“I’m taking the class!” Dean shouted, striding around the desk and toward the elevators.

“Have it your way, boy.” Zachariah stepped toward the hallway, reached out, snapped a finger, and as from fricken  _ nowhere  _ two security guards appeared and seized Dean’s arms. 

“Lemme go!” Dean twisted, jerked his arm free, swung an elbow wide as he turned to bump the second guard. He hit solid flesh, ineffectual, as weak and useless as his public tantrum. “I’m going, I--”

Something jabbed into his side and agonizing pain erupted outward. Gasping, he stumbled forward another step and tried to speak, but no words came out - _I was about to leave_ _you dipshits, just let me leave -_ and his supporting leg gave way. 

“Now, then.” Zachariah turned away before Dean’s knees hit the ground. “I’m so sorry for the delay, sir.” The alpha who’d been waiting rolled his eyes as the guards grabbed Dean’s arms. “How may I help you today?”

_ You  _ could  _ have just let me take the fucking class. _

“Well, the show was a good start,” the alpha said with a laugh and a flippant gesture in Dean's direction.

_ We did everything we were supposed to do! _

Zachariah and those closest in line joined in, shared appreciation for the spectacle of an upstart omega put in his place. They hardly spared a glance his way as the guards hefted Dean and dragged him across the room.

_ For once in my frackin’  _ life _ , _ I  _ did everything I was supposed to do... _

“Where…” His tongue was leaden and unwieldy in his mouth, his head dull like he’d been long sick. “Where you takin’ me?”

_ And everythibg still went to hell in a handbasket. _

The automatic front doors whooshed open. Someone coming in dodged out of their way with a surprised look, and then they were outside, on the street, for all to see. People pulled their cell phones out, admiring Dean's shame through the lens of a camera. A Discipline Squad car was parking outside. How the  _ fuck  _ had they gotten here so quick?

_ What will Cas say when he finds out how badly I blew it? _

Fuckin’ Zachariah must have called the bastards as soon as Dean started getting  _ uppity _ . The security guards jerked the car door open and threw him into the backseat, indifferent as his head cracked the doorframe on the way in. One leaned to the front seat, speaking to the officers up front, but the words were gibberish filtered through the pain wracking his skull. His head throbbed, and whatever they’d hit him with had his stomach roiling.

“Get in there!” snapped someone, shoving at his legs. 

Struggling to command his muscles enough to draw his legs into the car, Dean complied as best he could. The vehicle smelled of leather and submissiveness, fear and nerves and piss.

More of that scent originated with Dean than he cared to admit.

He couldn’t face another discipline session.

The door slammed into his feet, twisting his knee, and he groaned.

“Shut up, brat,” snapped one of the Discipline Officers, smacking a hand against the metal grate separating them from the back seat. 

_ Fuck that. _

“Make me,” he suggested. The words were a mumble, but at least he’d said them.

_ I survived everything fuckin’ John Winchester could dish out. _

“You  _ will  _ learn your place,” said the other cop with a suggestive leer.

_ What you sadistic motherfuckers can do legally ain’t got  _ shit  _ on him. _

“In your dreams, sweet cheeks.” Dean even managed a saucy wink.

_...but if it's anything like last time I got my pert ass sent to a Discipline Center… _

The officer behind the wheel hit the gas, inertia slamming Dean against the back seat. He shuddered, trying to blink away his disorientation. His stomach churned, a vurp making his mouth taste vile. God, he felt like shit, and they hadn't even started his punishment yet.

_...it'll still suck big donkey dong. _

The Institute staff  _ must _ have called Cas, yet here Dean was, under pseudo-arrest, and his beta was nowhere in evidence. Cas had left Dean to his fate.

_ No...he wouldn't do that to me...he knows I can't… _

_...he knows… _

_...but... _

Cas must think Dean deserved punishment.

_ Because here I am. _

Dean's head bounced against the cushions as the officers stopped short at a red light. Dust puffed out and coated his nose; he sneezed and almost threw up.

The brakes squealed.

“Lemme take the Institute course and I'll fix that for you,” Dean muttered, words slurring together.

“Keep talking,” suggested an officer. “We're gonna make you eat every word.”

Aw hell. They might mean that literally.

Dean blinked away tears and twisted his head around enough to see the officer grinning down at him and licking his lips.

They almost certainly meant that literally.

_ Fuck today. _


End file.
